This was what it was all about. Wind in his face, stinging enough to feel the freshness and the purity of the good air but not too much so as to cause discomfort. An abundance of space in which to move and spread his great wings to the full giving him a manoeuvrability not possible on terra ferma. Below him a vista limited only by his own ability to see. There it was, below him, his world of greens and blues and many other colours in their gory. This was truly what it was all about, this was life, devoid of the pain and suffering, heartache, and all that they bring with them to spoil the natural beauty. It was as if they couldn't stand to leave anything that is beautiful alone, it had to be spoiled, even to destruction. He could never understand this and it was this tendency towards destroying beauty as well as a taste of personal persecution that led him to what became his island. 

Here, on Ynys Tan Idris, the Great Red Dragon came to find peace and contentment. The island was joined to the mainland of Gwalia by a long causeway which was visible only at low tide. Any other time the sea was far too lively to attempt a crossing. This gave him a lot of privacy or did for some time until some Gwalians from the mainland discovered that they had a big red dragon virtually living on their doorstep and so decided to seek him out, for some obscure reason. They came to be known to him as tourists. A term he had picked up somewhere in passing. He had picked up other little phrases like, hooligan, nuisance, pest. He possessed incredible hearing and could pick these phrases up without trying. Although he sought solitude he still liked to keep abreast of the times, fascinated by language. It was so refreshing compared to that of the traditional dragon set. He wasn't a stick in the mud traditional ancient legendary dragon, no, no. He was a thoroughly modern dragon. 

He had left his place of birth behind and in doing so his heritage. He had turned his back on tradition, all that legendary stuff talked about ad-nauseam back in the lodge where all the elders congregated. Always talking about great battles they'd had with the humans, killing, mayhem, misery, setting places on fire, every example mentioned followed by great guffaws from the oldest there. It all made Idris feel very sad, there must be more to life than all this violent stuff they talked about. It didn't help when asked to speak it became clear he had a bit of a speech problem which made it difficult for the others to take him seriously. In fact he was looked upon as a misfit, an oddity among dragons, very un-dragony. So, he decided to leave and make a life for himself away from his kind, coming to settle here on Ynys Tan, where his worst problem were tourists and who were they but little Peeps with nothing better to do. Not a real problem, an irritant yes but a problem, no. 

No, he was much better off here on his own little island complete with its own mountain, away from all that dragony stuff and away from him, The White Dragon and resident loudmouth show off. If he never saw that Whitey again it would be too soon. For some reason the White Dragon always found a way to pick on him, always bragging about his latest adventure, some were very questionable, thought Idris. Of course, the females never saw this, no, they saw this great bold White warrior Dragon, quite a catch, hmm? Well, he wasn't impressed. Whitey was just a real pain in the canards.

The sun was on its way down, Idris was aloft, just tasting the good air for the last time of the day when something caught the corner of his eye. Something in the distance, a familiar shape circling over the area he knew to be Oakwood on Sea, a quiet little settlement, quiet but ambitious. It saw itself as a place for visitors to come to and was trying hard to promote itself as such. This circling shape did not suggest the kind of visitor the Peeps of Oakwood had in mind and judging by the way it was moving, would welcome. There was an air of menace about it. Just as he decided to give it the once over and before he could act he saw an orange and red stream of fire shoot from the interloper's mouth. This was an aggressive Dragon of the Tradition and it was attacking the settlement below. 

Without a second's thought Idris swooped down and fired a warning shot across the belligerent dragon's snout. It was then he thought he recognised the aggressor. Whitey! The White Dragon was momentarily startled by this bolt of flame skimming past his snout, too close for comfort and rather than retaliate he turned tail and flew off towards the South. Meanwhile he left behind him a number of dwellings ablaze and Peeps scurrying about doing what they could to fight the fire. Some pointed skyward and saw Idris flying away alone. In his mind, this was not good. He would need to talk with The Lady, the only Peeps he liked. She was special. She would listen to him and maybe put in a good word. He was going to need it after this.

The Lady was a wise woman of indeterminate age possessing great knowledge, some say a bit of a witch because she was quite magical in some ways. She seemed to know what one was going to say before they did themselves. She was the one to go to for medical matters, personal problems and yet she looked far too young to be gifted so. Idris had met her one day on the island where she was sitting on a rock, looking out to sea and he had just landed after his morning spin, almost landing on top of her. To be fair she was very good about it, just cracking one on his snout with her open hand for his rude arrival. They hit it off straight away and have been friends ever since. She had arrived in Oakwood only a year before him and had been using the island for periods of meditation unbeknown to Idris who thought he knew everything that went on around him but apparently he didn't. 

It was clear to Idris that he was in trouble. The tourists stopped coming to the island. The attack had had its effect and he was the obvious culprit because he was the only dragon seen that day. He needed to talk to the Lady but she hadn’t been to the island either so he was wondering whether she too thought him guilty. This was worse than being back with his own kind and he even considered returning but then he thought again. That move would be too awful to contemplate. The most awful part about this present situation he found was the thought that he’d somehow let The Lady down. He was very fond of her and he thought she really understood him and he enjoyed the discussions they shared when she visited. This is what made him very sad indeed. He was sitting on the rock high up the mountain, the same rock where they met. He was looking out to sea like they had done together and he was aware for the first time of how lonely he was. It hadn’t struck him before.

"Can I join you or are you studying?" It was her, she'd come to the island.

"Of course, please do. Oh it's so good to see you, I’ve missed our little chats." He jabbered away like this for a few minutes, unable to hide his joy at seeing her again. Also, unable to hide the tear that dropped from his eye as it splashed to the ground.

"Are you alright, Idris. You look upset?”

"Oh, I feel so wetched. Everything was going so well then HE had to show up and spoil it all."

"HE, who is HE and how has he spoiled it all? What happened while I was away?" 

"You, you've been away?” 

"Why yes, I was visiting my Aunt in Windy Ho. I came straight here, I haven 't been home yet. So tell me, what has happened to make you so sad?"  

Idris told her all about the incident, how the White Dragon from his old lodge had set Oakwood alight and how he chased him away but then that left himself as the only dragon to be seen. The tourists stopped visiting the island after that and he hasn't dared show his face again in case they panic and do something everyone will regret.

"Oh my! That's terrible."

"It wasn't my fault!"

"I’m not saying it was, my friend. I meant that it must be awful for you."

The two sat in silence for a while, Idris feeling worse by the minute while the little lady by his side was deep in thought. After some time she stood up and said.

"Right then, I suggest you sit tight while I go back to Oakwood, see how things are and what can be done about it. Then I’ll return. In the meantime, my fine big red friend, you just stop beating yourself up over it. You have done nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, it was you who saved the day. Get some rest. I’ll be as quick as I can." With that she was gone, leaving Idris to contemplate what she had told him about beating himself up, wondering how one actually did that.

"I would never have expected that from that big beast.” Said the resident bar storyteller, knocking back his third of the day. The bar of the Carve Up was busy as usual, being a market day and the locals were exchanging views on the ‘burning’ as it had been called.

“Did you actually see it happen?”

“Oh aye, bold as brass ‘e come down, billowing flame this way and that way, burning everything in sight. I would never have expected it from him. It was a real shock.”

“And it was the red dragon you saw, you sure of that?”

“Listen young Lady, when you’ve seen one dragon you’ve seen them all and I know what I saw.”

“I suppose they all look pretty much the same don’t they?”

“Aye lass, seen one, seen  ‘em all.”

“Thank you, Mr. ?”

“Oh, it’s Ivor, everyone knows me. And you are?”

“Oh, Blyth, Miss Blyth.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you. How come you never saw it?”

“I was away at the time, I’m just catching up on the news of the community. Where better to do that than right here in the Carve Up. You seem to have had quite a time of it?”

“Aye lass, that we have.”

She left the local and made her way home, her head filled with what’s commonly known as hearsay. It was very much as she had suspected. Having talked with a number of so-called eye witnesses it was clear that not one of them actually saw what had occurred. Yes, they had all seen Big Red winging his way home but not one actually saw him commit the act. The trouble was, they were all so sure it was him because he was the one they saw. Difficult to argue with that. As promised she reported back to Idris who was deeply saddened by what she had to say because it didn’t look good for him and he was thinking that maybe his time on the island had come to an end and he was faced with searching for somewhere else to settle.

“Now don’t you despair, Idris. We’ll find a way to clear your name, you see.” Even though she said this Ginny had no idea how they would achieve this.

By the time a week had passed there was a definite change in the mood of the Peeps of Oakwood. It only takes one hot head to start things and it was Ezra the Bat-handler who was that hot head. He’d been drinking solidly all afternoon and was well beyond reason and he had an axe to grind. A while ago some of his bats were greatly disturbed by the Big Red Pest and it took Ezra days to round them up, losing a few in the process. He was not happy. And, after an afternoon on the Juice he was itching for a fight, making sure he whipped up enough support with his wild rhetoric among the other hard drinkers of the Inn. It had all come to a head that afternoon and Ezra had a mob formed who were ready to torch the Red Pest out of his cave and off the island.

“Idris! Idris! Are you there?” She was almost out of breath having run from the Settlement the minute the air there had become toxic. She’d come to warn her friend. But, her friend was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps this was a good thing. If Idris was not around maybe the mob would disperse and the danger would pass. Then again, she knew better than that. They were after blood, fuelled as they were by the alcohol, no friend of reason. Just as she was trying to decide what to do, Idris came into view, he was out to sea, probably fishing. As he was turning to return to the island Ginny heard the noise, the ugly obscene sound made by a mindless mob. With the noise she could see they were carrying torches of flame. They meant business. She wasn’t one to panic but she was very anxious right now as to how Idris would cope with this emergency. There was no question about him being able to handle the situation but it was something she would rather not have happen. Idris was not by nature your average traditional fierce dragon and he would hate to have to defend himself against the ones he’d lived alongside with no trouble for so long.

The mob were nearing the causeway when a shout went up.

“Look, a dragon and it’s attacking the settlement.”

Everyone stopped in their tracks and watched as a huge White Dragon swooped on the Settlement setting light to many properties. The mob were visibly shaken and sobered up virtually on the spot. They were witnessing for themselves an attack on their homes by a belligerent Dragon and it wasn’t the Big Red Pest but a white one.

Almost the instant the mob saw the attacker Big Red came into view. He’d seen what was happening and diverted his flight path and was now plummeting towards the aggressor. Again he had surprise on his side and was able to fire a blast of flame which just missed the other’s snout. This time the White aggressor didn’t turn and run but chose to take up the challenge. It was game on.

The sky over Oakwood on Sea was dominated by two mighty winged beasts, circling one another, sizing one another up, each with a point to prove. This was no game, the stakes were high, only one would fly away.

“So, this is where you hide yourself is it, Freak?”

This was Whitey’s opening gambit. Goad his once Lodge, sharing kin into hasty and wrong action.

“Still spoiling things I see. It’s about all you can do. Nothing changes obviously!” Was the reply from Idris.

They circled some more, each looking for an opening. One wrong move could prove fatal if certain vital areas were laid open as targets. These must be guarded or it could soon be over for one or the other. Each needed to play it very tightly.

“I always knew you’d amount to nothing and bring shame on the whole dragon family!” 

Whitey was trying his best to rile his opponent but Idris wasn’t having any of it and just kept circling. They would circle one way for a few turns and then the other way, each testing the other’s alertness. One thing was certain, neither could afford leaving himself open to sustained flame or prolonged close quarter grappling because each possessed lethal horns and claws which could do immeasurable damage with just one pass. 

Whitey was fighting for the honour of the dragons, or so he may have said but there was more personal kudos involved, personal pride, status. Whereas Idris was defending something far greater, a thought that crossed his mind which angered him. He mustn’t let his mind wander off the immediate task, cause or no. Almost without thinking, more by pure instinct than anything he peeled off just in time to avoid a blast of flame from Whitey who was clearly getting impatient. A bad trait to have in such conditions. With a sudden wing flip Idris was able to make a quick pass on his opponent catching him on his underbelly with a sharp talon, ripping a huge gash along his body. First blood to Big Red.

Whitey was immediately thrown into a rage, another poor strategy for this kind of combat. One had to keep one’s head at all times. He came at Idris in a frenzy, snarling and slashing, and extending his horns wildly. Idris was caught a glancing blow by one of Whitey’s claws, ripping into his shoulder. The two parted and began circling again. It looked like Whitey had learned his lesson and calmed down. But no. He came at Idris once more, full on bull-charge. Idris waited till the very last second before diving below the oncoming Whitey. Again, he was able to catch him with his talons in almost the same spot as earlier, widening the now horrendous gap. Whitey was hurt, badly but which was worse, the physical pain or the blow to his pride. Whichever it was, it had robbed him of tactical advantage of any kind. He was far too enraged now. Not thinking straight. 

Idris was ready to leave it at that, not wanting to actually kill his once acknowledge kin but this was not a shared thought, clearly demonstrated by the insane charge with which Whitey came at him again. Even though he had the advantage and in normal circumstances the victory, now Idris was being forced to take more aggressive action to defend himself. As Whitey came at him, bent on taking his life, with a couple of side twists and wing flip Idris put himself in perfect position to give Whitey a quick burn, hitting him mid-wing. At that moment, Whitey was finished as a fighting force, unable to sustain steady flight, in fact he could barely stay aloft.

“I’m sorry, Whitey, but you forced me!” Shouted a saddened Idris as his opponent struggled to fly away, gradually and painfully into the distance. 

Down on the ground the Peeps who had stayed to witness the battle in the sky were whooping and cheering and waving their arms about, slapping one another on the back in sheer delight, there would be a big celebration this night for sure. Peeps knew how to celebrate alright. Idris saw none of this, he was not feeling jubilant but tired and very sad as he slowly turned away for his island and home and solitude.

    She was waiting for him by the cave entrance. Saying nothing she let him enter first then followed and as soon as he was reasonably settled started to attend to his wounds. He had more than he knew, mostly minor but the gash in his shoulder was going to take all of Ginny ‘s medical skill to sort out.

“You put up a good show there, Red.” She said eventually as she was clearing up after the first aid had finished.

He was silent for many minutes, She kept up a little light chatter, not conversation as such just something to calm her own nerves after such nerve wracking time. There then followed a long silence as both sat looking out of the cave entrance at the early evening sky, the sun just beginning to sign off for the day.

“It was Whitey. Whitey and he wanted to kill me!”

There was shock, pain, and regret in his voice, incredulity even. “How could he?” He thought, “his own kin.”

“It happens sometimes. Something snaps inside and turns kin against kin.” 

“Huh? Oh, sowwy, I was thinking aloud.”

“It's alright, Idris, you are perfectly entitled to. If you'd prefer I could leave. Your dressing will need changing in the morning, I could come back then.”

“You’re a good fwiend Miss Ginny, a good fwiend indeed. I could do with some sleep but it’d be good to see you tomowow, for the dwessing change.”

“Yes, you get some sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

With that she left the wounded Idris with his many thoughts.

“I just knew it wasn’t the Big Red guy in the first place, just knew it in me bones.”

Old Silas, the community sage, storyteller and regular in the Inn was holding court at the bar, tankard in hand, waving it around in his usual dramatic manner. There seemed to be a general consensus that the perpetrator of the recent burnings was never Big Red in the first place, never any doubt. So out of character. Tourism would resume in due course. Miss Ginny left the Inn the same way she came, unseen, and slowly walked home, deep in her own thoughts about the vagaries of her fellow Peeps’ behaviour and attitudes, especially in times of great danger.

On a high rocky point, in the dwindling light, sitting alone, brooding over his recent  encounter with an old enemy, Whitey was in pain. Yes, his wing had been badly scorched and would take a long time to heal and would likely never be the same again. He was contemplating his future. It was a very bleak one as far as he could see. What good was a dragon like him without the ability to fly. He was or saw himself as a warrior. Now he was a beaten warrior, a loser. How could he face the Lodge again, especially after his boasting prior to leaving that day. The darkness drew in over a very bitter and self-pitying lonely ex-warrior Dragon.*(See footnote at end)